


Fic: That Damn Fur Coat (NC-17)

by tuesdaysgone



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-06
Updated: 2010-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-18 09:00:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaysgone/pseuds/tuesdaysgone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He looks like the Devil incarnate, hips tilted like an incitement to sin.  Frank's all for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fic: That Damn Fur Coat (NC-17)

  
Well, hi there, completely unbetaed not!fic, how YOU doin'. The Google doc for this is called "that damn fur coat" and so let's just say that's a title.

This is because [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/mrsronweasley/profile)[**mrsronweasley**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/mrsronweasley/) and [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/swiiftly/profile)[**swiiftly**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/swiiftly/) and I were all at Roseland on Friday. And...things happened. And then we were talking on Twitter. And then fic had to happen. [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/mrsronweasley/profile)[**mrsronweasley**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/mrsronweasley/) wrote part of this, and I wrote the rest, and...here you go. 2,702 words. Frank/Gerard, very NC-17.

  
Six songs in and Gerard's on FIRE. Frank doesn't know what's gotten into him. A third of the way through the set, and he's already touching himself, strutting around in his fucking tight as shit jeans, moaning, prancing. Has been since the first song. And he touches Frank every time he walks by. Little things, innocent if you can't see the way he's fucking leering underneath the rat's nest of freshly dyed red hair. He looks like the Devil incarnate, hips tilted like an incitement to sin. Frank's all for it. If he would just fucking HOLD STILL. But no, Gerard's too amped, too intent on fucking TEASING, and so Frank watches him prop a foot up on Frank's monitor and imagines grabbing onto those slim hips tight enough to bruise, imagines sinking onto his knees and sliding his palms up Gerard's thighs and giving Gerard what he so obviously wants. And so he just keeps his head down and plays. He makes it six songs into their set before he collapses onto the floor, running around in a little circle like a windup toy that's winding down before he finally just gives up, falling to his knees and then his back.

Gerard, fucking GERARD, is on him immediately, like he's got a fucking sixth sense - maybe he does - for when Frank just can't take it anymore. He swings a leg over Frank's hips, crouching down and screaming into the mic, and Frank's hips snap up immediately. He can't remember where he is or what he's doing, and then the mic's in his face as well, with Gerard grinning down at him and Frank's arching, straining to reach the mic because he can't fucking deny Gerard anything, and that fucker knows it. He screams the lyrics with his eyes closed. It's gonna be a long fucking night.

It's an amazing show, is what it is, and Frank can't help laughing across the stage at Ray when Gerard pulls out the fur coat - faux fur, he announces for the audience's benefit, and Frank rolls his eyes - and then he loses himself in Kids and the next thing he knows he's walking offstage, Mikey's bass vibrating the boards under his feet, and he's pinned up against the wall and Gerard's licking his way up Frank's throat to his mouth, fur cuffs brushing against Frank's cheeks.

"Here?" Frank gasps hopefully when Gerard stops fucking nibbling at him. There are a million people backstage, but there's gotta be a dark corner somewhere. Frank's hard as a fucking rock right now, Gerard can't be much better, it wouldn't take long....but no, because Gerard's stepping back, sliding the fucking jacket off his pale shoulders, and - walking away.

"Hotel night," he calls back over his shoulder. "I'll make it worth your while."

That had better mean what Frank thinks it means. Because right now what it means is WAITING. Frank presses the heel of his hand against his cock, readjusting himself in his jeans, and follows the red hair back to the green room.

Okay, so it's a hotel night. Which means they can do things pretty extensively, like. They've got TIME. Which means Gerard is being a horrible, terrible tease. Frank is jittery and needy, like he needs a cigarette, but that doesn't cut it; or he needs to jump around in place or run around in circles, but that's not helping either.

What he needs, actually, is Gerard and his dick - preferably, in Frank's mouth, but he'll take anything at this point, he's just wound the fuck up.

It takes fucking hours to get out of the venue, and of course Frank isn't going to deny the fans any autographs, not when the kids had been out there from morning till now, and it's already two fucking AM. But he just has to keep reminding himself that it's a hotel night, and the hotel is only two minutes away. Just make some kids happy, and then it's the home stretch.

Well, so he thinks, anyway, except that Gerard keeps throwing him these evil fucking glances, because he knows, of course. He always has.

When they finally get to the room, Frank barely waits to drop his bags before stripping. Hell, he barely waits for Gerard to shut the door. He can smell the dried sweat on both their bodies, a reek of the stage and the smokes and everybody's exuberance on his fingers. He half wants to get in the shower and wash it all off, but really, mostly, he just wants to put his hands all over Gerard, get him just as naked as Frank, just as fucking needy.

Gerard laughs through the first stage of Frank's plan, stifled giggles against his shirt and huffs of breath on Frank's hair as he sinks down to unzip those disgusting but hot as shit pants Gee's been wearing for a solid season now. He's rocking it commando, which is both revolting and revoltingly sexy, and Frank can't help it. He doesn't even wait to get Gerard out of the pants before nuzzling his crotch, his tongue tantalizingly close to Gerard's hard-on, but a firm grip on his hair stops him mid-lick.

"Wha -" Fuck, is he serious? "Gerard -"

"Wait, Frankie," Gerard whispers and pulls at Frank's hair until Frank's ass hits his ankles. Gerard's face looks stark and kind of sinister in the hotel light. He's probably not actually evil, but naked down to his thighs, his dick huge and hard and way too far away from Frank's mouth, he's definitely acting like it.

"What the fuck," Frank whines, his throat barely working. "How do you even have the energy for teasing right now, seriously." He tries to pull away, but Gerard's got him exactly where he, apparently, wants him.

He just laughs at him, the stupid giggle that makes him look like a kid and bites his lip. "It's cause I'm a rock star. I can do whatever I want," he whispers and tugs on Frank's hair until Frank's forced up and to his feet. They're chest to naked chest, and dick to hard dick now. Frank braces himself on the wall behind Gerard and thrusts up, just to show Gerard what a giant asshole he's being. Gerard laughs again, quieter this time, and runs his fingers all down Frank's scalp, which forces a really embarrassing whimper out of Frank.

"We've got all night, you know," Gerard whispers before leaning and kissing him, hard and deep. Frank gives up and goes with it, because that right there is what he fucking wanted this whole time. Sure, their lobby call is seven fucking am tomorrow, but whatever, he'll power through if it means a night of awesome sex.

Gerard pulls off his mouth long enough to add, "This is your fault, anyway. You just look so good on your back." He's not even leering this time, just saying it like it's a fact, like Frank's trying it. Frank would be trying it if Frank could form a coherent thought right now, but Gerard's too close and he's still tugging on Frank's hair a little and Gerard KNOWS that's not playing fair.

"What, you want a reenactment? Fine." He pushes Gerard toward the bed, making a frustrated noise when Gerard evades his hands, spinning them around and planting a palm on Frank's chest instead. He shoves, not that hard, but Frank still stumbles back a step and crashes onto the mattress. Gerard's on him immediately, straddling his legs and grinning down at him. He reaches up and grabs ahold of those fucking distracting hips - FINALLY - thumbs tucking under Gerard's hipbones, fingers sinking into the swell of Gerard's ass, and he PULLS Gerard closer, pulls him up so he's straddling Frank's chest and if Frank arches his back and stretches his neck he can just about reach - but no, because Gerard's reaching down and sticking his fingers into Frank's mouth instead.

They taste like sweat and cigarettes, salty and sharp in different places on his tongue. His mouth waters, and he slides his tongue between the pointer and middle fingers, flicking it back and forth across the webbing before letting them slip back out, nipping a little at the fingertips.

Gerard flicks a nail at Frank’s chin when he gets his fingers free, a tiny sting, and when Frank jerks his chin up he runs his fingers down Frank’s exposed throat, spreading to span his collarbones and pressing down. Not hard, just enough. “Not yet,” he says, his free hand wrapping around his cock and giving it a few leisurely strokes. Frank just looks up and watches. Gerard’s unmarked skin glows, pale expanses of belly and ribs and chest, slim corded arms. His hair is wild, and his cock is flushed hard and gleaming at the tip. Frank can SMELL it, it’s so close, and his hips lift helplessly against nothing, no skin, no friction. He whines a little, and Gerard stops stroking, looks down at Frank, and says, “Really?”

Yes, fucking really. Frank’s out of patience, out of his head, and the corner of Gerard’s mouth lifts a little as he leans forward, bracing a hand on the headboard and dragging the head of his cock across Frank’s lips with the other. He gasps a little when Frank touches the tip of his tongue gently to the crown, and Frank would laugh - it’s just a taste of his own medicine, that motherfucker - but he cradles Gerard’s hips instead, pulling him closer, opening his mouth to take Gerard in till his lips meet Gerard’s encircling fingers.

Gerard groans as Frank runs his tongue up the underside of his cock, pulling almost the whole way off before sucking gently at the tip. Fuck, he loves this, the heat and pressure on his tongue, the stretch of his lips, the taste of Gerard’s skin. Gerard’s thighs tight across his chest, pressing him into the bed. He lets Gerard’s cock slip out of his mouth, and it leaves a spit-slick trail across his cheek as he turns his head to press open-mouthed kisses against Gerard’s inner thigh. Gerard lets go of his dick to drag his fingers through Frank’s hair, pushing it away from his face. “Frankie,” he whispers.

“Yes. _Please_ ,” Frank grits out as Gerard’s fingers twist harder in his hair. He closes his eyes and opens his mouth wide as Gerard tugs his head back and slides back in, tiny movements of his hips pushing his cock in farther, testing. Frank moans, and Gerard echoes it, snapping his hips in hard. His fingers flex where they’re wrapped in Frank’s hair. His scalp prickling, he grips Gerard’s hips tighter, blunt nails sinking into the soft flesh as Gerard fucks his mouth. He’s panting now, groaning out curses that Frank can barely hear above the blood pounding in his own ears, and Frank KNOWS he’s about to come, knows the break in Gerard’s breath, and when Gerard pulls back suddenly he almost chokes on his confused inhalation. “What, where - “

“I - Frank,” Gerard groans suddenly, wriggling back down Frank’s body till he can hunch over and lick back into Frank’s mouth, dick pinned between their stomachs, and when Frank tries to worm a hand in Gerard pushes it away. “No, wait - “ Gerard’s looking a little wild-eyed, but when he scrambles off the bed Frank just lets his head drop back against the pillows. What the fuck, seriously?

He’s still got his eyes fixed firmly on the ceiling when he feels the mattress dip again. “I told you - “ Gerard pants, “ - I’d make it - worth your while.” He goes breathy on the last word, and Frank glances back down - and almost swallows his tongue. Gerard’s holding a packet of lube, reaching behind himself, and Frank can’t see his hand but he’s not really in any doubt of what’s going on.

“So fucking dirty, babe,” he rasps. “How many?”

Gerard looks up; his eyes are glittery, crazed, a red flush creeping down his neck and chest. “What - “

“How many _fingers._ Gerard.” He wraps a hand around the base of his own cock. This right here? This is actual torture.

“Ohhhh,” Gerard breathes. “I - “ He stops suddenly and smiles, snapping back into control as Frank starts to fucking lose it again. “Two,” he adds coyly. “I’m in a - “ He shudders visibly and his voice cracks. “ - hurry all of a sudden.”

Fuck. Fuck waiting, fuck not looking fucking desperate as hell. Frank’s lifting up on his elbow, scrabbling over the covers for the condom he’s sure is there. He touches foil and practically growls in triumph; his hands are actually shaking as he rolls it on, fuck, and Gerard....

Gerard’s watching, his eyes so intense Frank can’t look anywhere else. “Gee,” Frank breathes. “Come here.” Gerard’s hands have been busy this whole time, and he’s moving before Frank finishes the request, swinging a leg over to straddle Frank’s hips, grabbing Frank’s cock to position himself and sinking down fast.

Frank shouts, way too loud and they probably heard him two doors down but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t give a shit, because fuck does Gerard feel good, feel PERFECT, hot and tight and he’s going to go insane. This is what he wanted all night, every day of his fucking life: Gerard fucking riding him, back arching, head thrown back, hands clutching Frank’s thighs as he fucks himself down onto Frank.

Frank clamps his hands back over Gerard’s hips, pulling him down further, _harder_ every time Gerard sinks down, snapping his own hips up in rhythm, running his hands up and down Gerard’s belly and sides and chest. He tweaks a nipple and yeah, he knows that’s a SPOT for Gerard and he’s not surprised when Gerard shouts, hunching in on himself and grabbing for his cock and coming suddenly in hot splashes all over both their stomachs. He droops forward, hair swinging down to curtain his face, and Frank grabs a fistful of red strands, pulling Gerard forward to suck on his neck right - there - and bite his jaw.

Gerard moans, because that’s a spot for him too, but really it’s less about leaving a mark - though Frank really fucking hopes he left a mark - and just about Frank’s need to lick his way back to Gerard’s mouth, kiss away the dirty little words Gerard breathes as Frank snaps his hips up one final time and shudders into stillness.

“God,” Gerard mumbles into his ear, draping himself back over Frank once Frank has made the half-hearted and VERY basic effort to strip the condom off, tie it, and toss it in the direction of the trash can. He’s plastered in sweat and come and hot like a furnace against Frank’s side and Frank might be twitchy about showering later but for right now, it would take an earthquake to move him.

“Call me Frank.” He murmurs the old joke half-heartedly into Gerard’s sweaty hair, and Gerard lets out a lazy, fucked-out version of his stupid honking laugh.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m ridiculous? You’re the one with the fucking fur coat. And, and, and - the fucking _teasing,_ Gerard, fuck you.”

Gerard noses up through Frank’s messy hair to whisper in his ear, “You already did, dumbass.”

“Yeah, well, see if I do it again,” he grumps. Gerard laughs again, and after a second Frank joins in. As if there was ever a fucking question. Lobby call’s at seven, but there’s a lot of hours till then.


End file.
